The corridors feltalive with whispering drafts, and every shadow seemed to murmur the words she had just heard.
Plump pumpkin,unworthy, unwanted.
She presseda hand to her chest, wondering how foolish she had been to believe that marriage could change what she was in the eyes of others. Edmund’s flight felt like proof carved in stone that she had been rejected for her looks. Her thoughts spiraled, telling her that Jaxon had only chosen her out of duty, that no man could ever truly desire her.
She puther hand on the mole above her right eye, feeling embarrassment that it was there.
“I am naught but a fool.”
Gracie pausedat the foot of a spiral stair, the torchlight above her dim and wavering, and leaned against the cold wall. She imagined the castle itself judging her, its ancient stones whispering that she did not belong within such grandeur.
“Why would anyone choose me?”she murmured, her voice barely sound at all.
The answerin her mind was cruel and swift—because no one else would, because she was a burden.
She climbedwithout knowing where the steps would lead, her skirts brushing the stone, each turn tightening the knot in her chest. The higher she went, the farther she felt from warmth, from music, from the life she was meant to be living as a bride. Her eyes stung, and she did not bother to wipe them as tears slid free. If she were truly worthy, she thought, no whispers would follow her, and no man would ever flee at the thought of her hand in his.
At last,she reached a narrow landing and sank onto a bench beneath a darkened window, that gave her some much needed fresh air. She breathed it in deeply, trying to stop the sobs that shook her body.
“I shall never begood enough for any man. I have nay doubt that Jaxon will take on a mistress to satisfy him and our marriage will grow cold as snow.”
She wrappedher arms around herself, feeling small despite the new title she carried, and wondered if this castle would always feel like a place she had borrowed rather than earned.
“I am nay bride,”she whispered, the words breaking her heart even as she spoke them.
In the quiet gloom,Gracie felt utterly alone, certain that she had been a mistake made in lace and vows.
8
Gracie wiped her cheeks with trembling fingers and turned back the way she thought she had come, determined to return to the light and music of the great hall. The corridors twisted and narrowed, each passage looking like the last, and her heart beat faster with every wrong turn. Torchlight guttered along the walls, casting shadows that seemed to stretch toward her. She realized with a chill that she was well and truly lost.
A man’slaughter echoed ahead, thick and uneven, and she halted as a guard staggered into view. His tunic hung crooked, his eyes glassy with drink, and he swayed as he looked her over without recognition.
“Oh, lassie,”he slurred, licking his lips, “ye lost, are ye?”
He grinned and added,“Ye want me to help ye?”
“Aye,”Gracie said softly, her voice tight, “I am indeed lost.”
The guard stepped closer,his chuckle grew loud and echoed off the walls down the corridor. The scent of ale heavy on his breath. “Well then,” he said, his voice growing louder, “let me rescue ye, but it’ll cost ye a kiss.”
His hand slidaround her waist, drawing her nearer.
“Nay,”she whispered, squirming as fear seized her, “let me go!”
She tried to pull back,but his grip tightened, and panic flared in her chest.
“Please,”she said, “I daenae ken ye.” The corridor seemed to close in, the torchlight wavering like her courage.
Suddenly the guardwas wrenched away from her with brutal force. Gracie gasped as a broad shadow filled her sight, and the man was slammed against the stone wall.
Jaxon stood before him,one hand around the guard's throat, his eyes blazing with restrained fury. The air itself felt charged by his presence.
“Hamish,”Jaxon said, his voice low and deadly calm, “what are ye doin?” He leaned in, his tone hardening. “Ye dare touch me bride?”
Hamish’s eyeswidened in terror, his words tumbling out. “I dinnae ken, me laird, I swear it,” he stammered, “I thought she was a lass from another clan.”
“That doesnae excuse yer poor behavior,”Jaxon said coldly. “I should cut off yer hands for it.”
